‘Don’t,’ she’d told him.

‘But tha’s my little Mary,’ he’d said. ‘Tha doesn’t mind bein’ nice to thy dad, does tha? We don’t need to say owt to thy mother.’

She’d known it was wrong, but he was her father and her mother had always told her that she had to respect him because he was the head of the family – that she had to do as she was told and not be such an uppity madam. Besides, she couldn’t push him off. He was strong and although she knew he shouldn’t be touching her leg up under her skirts, she’d liked the feel of it and it awakened something in her, and when he’d rolled her on to her back and got on top of her there was nothing she could do but let him have his way. It had hurt and she’d called out, but he’d clamped his hand tight over her mouth until she felt like she couldn’t get her breath. Her heart had been pounding and she’d wanted to cry, but she’d been trapped there whilst he thrust and grunted until he shuddered and let her go. And when she’d struggled to her feet, shocked and alarmed, there’d been wet running down her leg and she’d thought she’d pee’d herself in fright but it was sticky and there was blood.

‘Did I hurt thee?’ he’d asked as she gazed at the mess on her fingertips. ‘I didn’t mean to.’ He’d reached out and caressed her cheek. ‘Tha’s a good lass. Don’t tell thy mam. It’s our little secret.’ Then he’d reached into his pocket and fished out a sixpence. ‘Buy thyself a nice ribbon to go with thy new frock,’ he’d told her before staggering up the stairs to his bed.

Chapter Five

Hannah watched Peggy as she wrote her letters on a slate with a piece of chalk, then showed them to Bessie, and asked her to say what they were. Every time Bessie replied she pronounced ‘Correct!’ in a voice that sounded remarkably like that of her teacher, Miss Parkinson.

‘Will tha teach me to read?’ Hannah asked Titus.

‘I thought tha weren’t interested,’ he said, looking up from the pamphlet he’d spread across the table. It was Sunday afternoon and the rain was pouring down outside.

‘I’ve nowt else to do,’ said Hannah, hoping that he wouldn’t refuse.

‘Maybe tha should get our Peg to teach thee,’ said Titus as he watched his daughter move on to spelling out a simple word.

‘C … a … t.’

‘Pussy cat!’ called out Bessie.

‘No! No! No! Not pussy cat. Just cat!’ Peggy reprimanded in her best teacher’s voice. ‘You have to read the word!’

‘Just listen to her, givin’ herself airs and graces.’ Titus laughed. ‘She’s a clever lass is our Peggy.’

Hannah tended to agree, but her heart ached for little Bessie, who had grown bored with the game and had picked up her rag doll to nurse on her knee. Although Titus heaped love and praise on Peggy, he rarely said a good word about Bessie. He seemed indifferent towards her, although that wasn’t surprising, given that she wasn’t his child.